


Shadows

by Medeafic



Series: Supernova [16]
Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hair-pulling, M/M, Mentions of D/s and sadomasochism, vague mention of knifeplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-22
Updated: 2011-02-22
Packaged: 2017-10-15 21:07:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/164943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medeafic/pseuds/Medeafic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris and Zach go on a date, and Chris shows Zach why English majors rock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadows

Chris finds himself living in a strange state of limbo. He’s not with Zach, but he’s not single. He certainly doesn’t want to be with anyone _else_ , but he misses sex more each day, and specifically the sex he used to have with Zach. He spends too much time kicking himself over taking it for granted. When he tries to remember details, sometimes they get tangled up in his mind and it’s frustrating. Subspace hasn’t helped anything, either, making half of his memories fuzzy and vague in the middle.

He’s not unhappy, although his therapist Suzanne is keeping an eagle-eye on his moods, just in case. He sees her once a week usually, and he likes it. He’s getting more control over his anger, and once she find out what he enjoys, Suzanne even gives him writing exercises to complete. Chris scribbles them in the journal he wrote for Zach, because it feels like the right place to put them. Zach might or might not want to read them – he might be wary of too much control again – but Chris wants it to be available to Zach if he ever wants it. Not because Chris is seeking approval, but because he wants to share. He knows Zach likes it when he shares himself. But he doesn’t mention it to Zach, not yet.

They talk a lot – texts, emails, and the occasional phone call, but Chris hasn’t asked when they’ll see each other again, because he’s afraid of the answer.

Then one day, when Chris is hanging out with a friend and playing some one-on-one, Zach calls him. Chris is panting for air when he answers the call. “Zach?”

“What are you doing? Jogging?”

“Down at the courts. Give me a second.” He gets his breath back and then speaks into the phone again. “Sorry. How are you?”

Pleasantries are exchanged, weather is discussed; Chris is starting to think it’s nothing but a general social call, and his friend Brandon is bored and sinking ball after ball and chalking it up on the scoreboard, making Chris antsy, until Zach says, “I’ll be back in LA for a few days. I was wondering if you wanted to go out for lunch.”

“Of course.” His heart soars.

“I mean – like a date.” Zach sounds embarrassed, and Chris grins.

“Oh, like a _date_? That’s different. Can’t do that.”

“Pine –”

“Come on, I’m just fucking with you. You want to come to my place?”

“No. I want to take you out somewhere.”

Chris is surprised about that, because there are so many reasons it would be easier for them to meet at Chris’s place, but then again – Zach has never really taken him out on a _date_. Actual dating never really came into the equation. They went from friends to friends with benefits to boyfriends. It piques Chris’s interest. “Okay. Where?”

  
****

  
The date, a few days later in a small Greek restaurant a few blocks from Chris’s apartment, is awkward. Zach is nervous and fidgety, and Chris tries to make things easier by keeping the conversation light, but it just makes everything seem more surreal. _This guy has cut me, burned me, bruised me, fucked me every which way from Sunday, and we’re talking about the pleasant LA sunshine_.

By the end of the meal, Chris has changed his mind about Zach’s intentions. This isn’t really a date; this is Zach breaking up with him. He’s probably never done it before, Chris realizes, except that shitty night after _Inishmore_ , so maybe he’s trying to let Chris down gently this time. Maybe Paul the Jungian Therapist told Zach how to do it _right_ , how to get _closure_. They pay the bill – Chris insists on contributing, and Zach doesn’t make a big deal out of it – and then stand outside, staring at everything except each other.

“Are you breaking up with me?” Chris asks eventually. “I mean, we’re not even really together, but if you want to make it official and stuff –”

“No!” Zach looks horrified. “Christ. _No_. Is that what was coming across? Because that’s not what should have been coming across.”

Chris laughs a little, from sheer relief. “I don’t know, man, you were just really invested in discussing the weather.”

“I’m sorry,” Zach says immediately. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s cool,” Chris says at the same time. And then he asks, “Want to go back to my place?” He feels a distant thrill of excitement, and he knows Zach feels it too, sparking between them just like it always has.

“Okay.” They start walking, and then Zach stops again. “I need to talk to you about some stuff.”

“Yeah. I know. That’s why we’re going back to my place.”

“Okay.”

It’s only when they get back to Chris’s apartment that he understands what Zach was trying to tell him. He pauses in the hallway, leaning against the door and looking at Zach hopefully, but Zach just backs away into the lounge and sits down, determined, on one of the single sofa chairs.

 _Oh. No fooling around._ Chris is disappointed, but Zach has a point. They _do_ need to talk things out.

Chris offers him some water, but Zach refuses, and they sit quietly for a moment.

“Hey. You’re rubber-banding again,” Chris points out. Zach grins and holds up his hand in a perfect Vulcan salute, his ring and pinky fingers wrapped together with an elastic band.

“Yeah, I fell out of practice. But we'll start filming again sooner or later, so.” They smile at each other. “I still haven’t worked out the quote,” Zach says suddenly. “The Jung quote. But I’m not so worried about it anymore. I’ve made a lot of breakthroughs in other areas.”

“Oh. Well, okay.”

“How’s your therapy going?”

Chris sighs. It figures that Zach would want to talk therapy, but Chris isn’t really in the mood. “It’s okay.”

Zach fidgets again.

“Could you just say it?” Chris asks at last, amused. “Either you have something you really want to say or you need the bathroom. Which is it?”

“Not bathroom,” Zach says briefly, with a smile. He opens his mouth to say something and then shuts it again. “Fuck. I’m really scared.”

“Am I so terrifying?”

“Can we talk more about other stuff first? I need to work up a bit of courage.”

Chris is starting to get tense now, too, so he nods. “Sure. Yeah. Tell me about your therapy. Are you integrated now?”

“Am I – what?”

“Integrated, assimilated, whatever. You said you made some breakthroughs.”

Zach gives a puzzled smile. “No. I’m still in one of the early stages of individuation. I already had the Persona down, and now I’m dealing with the Shadow, but that’s supposed to be a continuous process of acceptance for the rest of my life. And then in the next stage I have to identify my Anima, and then –”

“Jesus _Christ_.” Chris stands up to pace. “The rest of your _life_? And seriously, Zach, can you stop throwing all this jargonat me? I feel like you’re trying to convince me to join a cult.”

“You’re angry.”

“Well, _yeah_ , I’m angry. I mean – I’m glad for you, Zach, that you’re doing this sh– _stuff_ , I really am, but…” He lets out a frustrated noise that makes Zach jump. But Suzanne has impressed on him, time and time again, how important it is to verbalize his angry feelings, so that he can deal with them. “I guess I just had some expectations about this _date_. I thought – I just thought – and then you came back here – I thought –” Verbalizing them is actually really difficult.

“What did you think?” Zach asks softly. Chris shrugs, feeling suddenly hopeless. “Chris.” Zach is threading his trembling fingers through the rubber band, stretching it, and a dappled flush is spreading up his throat. “Why do you think I asked you out on a date?”

“I don’t know. To stop me from tearing your clothes off the minute I saw you? Can’t do that in public.” _Can’t do it in fucking private anymore, either, apparently._ “And then I thought you wanted to end things. But you said…” He subsides, feeling tired.

“I don’t want to end anything. I asked you out to lunch because it seemed like neutral ground, and the best way to tell you –” He clears his throat. “But I got scared, so I came back here to tell you –”

“Tell me what?”

“To tell you that I think I’m ready to try again. If you still want to.”

It doesn’t quite hit him what Zach is saying, not yet. “But you’re not fully individualized, or whatever.”

“Individuated,” Zach sighs. “Pine, psychoanalysis is not about being _cured_.”

“I know. I know that. I don’t think you need a cure. I don’t think there’s anything _wrong_ with you. It’s just, the whole process seems overblown and fucking _endless_.”

Zach shakes his head, impatient. “The thing is – I think I’m ready to try being in a relationship again. That’s why I came over from New York. I didn’t want to tell you that over the phone.”

Chris blinks a few times, taking it in. “Oh. You’re ready?”

“Slowly, though,” Zach warns. “Slowly. But that’s the other thing – I’m moving back. I mean, you knew I would, for _Trek_ , but I guess I wanted you to know, for sure. I’m moving back.”

Chris feels like all his Christmases have come at once. “So…could we take this conversation to the bedroom?” But Zach makes an apologetic face, and Chris groans. “Please don’t say what I think you’re going to say.”

“I’m really sorry, but I don’t think we should sleep together right away. It’s just…” Zach spreads his hands.

“Yeah, alright.” He’s getting angry again, so he tries to use some calming techniques he’s learned from Suzanne. They work, but it’s still a struggle.

“I just think it would be better to take things slowly this time. Including the sex.”

Chris closes his eyes for a moment, tries to really hear what Zach is saying rather than look for some hidden meaning, and rearranges his face into what he hopes is a smile. He looks back at Zach. “Okay. Slowly. We can do that.”

“You don’t look thrilled.”

“Well, Jesus, Zach, I haven’t gotten laid in a long, long time. I was hoping for at least a blow job in the hallway or something.” He’s only half-joking, and Zach nods seriously.

“It’s because I use sex as a deflection technique. I mean, you know that. You know I do that. And Paul thought it was a good idea as well.”

“Yeah, _okay_.” Chris gives Paul a slow, sarcastic mental clap. He knows it’s true, but that doesn’t make it any easier. He wants to find Paul and punch him right in his Jungian gut, but he quashes the fantasy. “I know. I _get_ it.”

“Also, it’s because of the _kind_ of sex. Because, well, I don’t know how to say this without it sounding completely outrageous, but I can’t fuck you like that if I don’t know that you have limits. It’s not good for me, _or_ you.” Zach says it all in a rush and sits back, waiting for Chris’s response.

And for a moment, it feels like Paul the Jungian has reached all the way from New York and punched _Chris_ right in the gut.

“I don’t like Paul.”

“Really? Because you hide it so well; I never would have guessed.” Zach is trying to diffuse the tension, giving a small, anxious chuckle. Chris breathes out, controlled, trying to release the anger and let it go. “You sure you’re not projecting?”

“I’m sure I _am_. Doesn’t make me _like_ him any more. He gets to spend more time with you these days than I do.”

“I’ve dropped back to two sessions a week now, if that helps. Okay,” Zach adds, catching sight of Chris’s expression, “it doesn’t. He’s good for me, though.”

“Oh, yeah. He’s good for you.” Chris is sincere about that. He might not like Paul, or the _idea_ of Paul, but whatever he’s doing with Zach is apparently working. “What happens with him when you move back?”

“Phone sessions.”

Things are strained for a while after that. Chris changes the subject to friends and work and annoying interviewers, and Zach, looking thoughtful, stops talking about therapy and slow relationships. It’s not that Chris isn’t happy for him – really. Zach has clearly changed. He’s more relaxed, less closed-off, and he talks freely about when he plans to move back to LA, and how much he misses Noah and Harold – “And you. Of course.”

Chris just makes vague noises of agreement. He’s still stung over Zach pointing out his own shortcomings. He’s been working hard on his anger management issues, but not so much on the masochism stuff, because he’s never felt like that’s been much of an issue. Chris accepts himself; it’s Zach who has problems in that arena. _That’s the way it’s always been_ , he insists to himself. _I’m perfectly fine with the pain stuff_.

“So what’s this dating thing about? Are we together again, or still not really?” He’s not trying to be hurtful, but he can see an uncertainty in Zach’s face that makes him try to tone it down. “I didn’t mean to be so abrupt. I just need to know where I stand with you.”

“I was hoping we could start dating, like this. And I meant – exclusively.” He swallows, gauging Chris’s reaction. “But I’ll understand if you don’t want to. You don’t have to do this at all,” Zach adds, his tone even. “I can see it’s hard for you. You don’t have to wait anymore, not if you don’t want to. I want you to be happy, not –”

“Could you just –” Chris snaps, and bites off the words. But he thinks about Suzanne, telling him to _verbalize it so you can take away its power_. “Look, I’m pissed, okay? I thought things would get better quicker than they have, and I thought at least that we might finally be able to fuck again, because God knows if I jerk off much more I’m gonna start taking off skin.”

Zach snorts, and tries to hide it. “You’re not the only one,” he admits after a moment, and Chris lets out a long breath, looks up at Zach, who smiles, a genuine smile.

“This dating, no-sex thing – was that actually Paul’s idea?” he asks.

“No. Like I told you, it was mine. And the no-sex thing isn’t going to be forever – it’s just till we get things sorted out between us.”

That makes it a little easier to take, at least. But, still, Chris can hear the implicit criticism about not having his limits worked out. “But – how _long_?” He can hear the whine in his own voice, and feels ashamed of himself.

“Chris, I’m really trying here, okay?” It’s the first time Zach has sounded on edge, and Chris sighs.

“Sorry. It just feels like a punishment.” He’s got that same feeling hovering around him that he did many months ago, when Zach first moved away and Chris was drinking too much, and generally behaving like a jerk. Bratty. Petulant. Entitled. “We’re finally in the same city and now you tell me I can’t even touch you? It’s torture.”

“If it makes you feel better,” Zach says, hesitant, “maybe you could think about it that way.”

Chris snaps his head up, feeling blood surge straight to his cock, and stares at Zach. His mouth is dry, and he has to sit down and surreptitiously rearrange his jeans before asking Zach to clarify.

Zach gives a quick, nervous grin. “You know what I mean.”

“You mean I could think about it like a game we’re playing, or like the rules we had?” Chris stretches lazily, his arms bent behind his head, and is pleased to see the way Zach’s eyes flicker to his waistband, hoping to see some skin flash between material. “I could do that. Sure. Is that allowed?” He’s just teasing, not needling, and Zach, thankfully, understands.

“It’s allowed. Would it make you happier?”

“Yeah. It would.”

“Then let’s play it that way.”

Zach leaves soon after, but they make plans to see each other again before he goes back to New York, to try another date and see how it goes. After he stands and starts pulling on his beanie, Chris puts a hand on Zach’s arm. “I get the no-sex thing. But no kissing either?”

Zach’s eyes go soft, and Chris thinks of stupid similes like melting chocolate, before he realizes Zach is nodding. “I think kissing’s okay.” He pulls Chris closer and they kiss, tentative, until Chris can’t help himself and grabs Zach’s face. It’s not just him; Zach is squeezing at his ass and breathing heavily. Chris hears him makes a long noise that runs the gamut of tempted, aroused, torn and decisive, and then Zach takes a firm step back. They look at each other. “Um. Actually,” Zach says, flushing, and Chris nods in furious agreement.

“Yeah. Okay. Maybe next time.”

“Because it’s just –”

“Zach, I’d love to talk it out, but I’m really fucking hard right now, and if you don’t leave in the next few seconds, you’ll have to resign yourself to watching me jack off.”

“Fuck.” Zach rubs his hand across his eyes and starts laughing. “Point taken. And reciprocated, so I – yeah. Bye?”

After Zach leaves, Chris flops on the bed and smiles at the ceiling, his fingers resting under his waistband. He feels content despite the ache in his balls. It _is_ torture, but just a few words have made it sweet. Like magic.

  
***

  
For the next date, they meet at Joe’s place, where Zach is staying, and Chris is pretty sure it’s because Zach thinks they’re less likely to jump each other out of respect for his brother’s couch. Chris himself doesn’t have any particular scruples about the couch, but he _does_ want to respect Zach, so he keeps his hands to himself and refrains from lascivious staring. He’s taken his journal with him, the one he’s written for Zach, but he doesn’t mention it right away. He’s looking for the right opportunity.

Zach wants to throw the ball around for Noah, so they go out into the yard and let Noah scramble between them for half an hour. It’s easier, this time, being together. The conversation flows better, and they even joke with each other; Chris asks about which eyebrow-removal technique he’s going to use for _Trek_ this time around, and Zach critiques his ball-throwing skills.

After that, Zach pulls things out of the fridge to find something to eat, and Chris tries not to think about knifeplay as Zach chops things. He makes them each an enormous sandwich, and they sit at the kitchen counter and eat in a comfortable silence. Noah waits patiently next to their chairs, hoping for something to drop on the floor.

“He hasn’t left me alone since I’ve been here,” Zach confides. “I feel bad. He’s my little gray shadow. I can’t wait till I’m back for real.”

“What about Harold?”

“Harold couldn’t care less.” But Zach grins.

“Dude, you have lettuce in your teeth.”

Zach runs his tongue over his teeth and bares them. “Gone?” Chris nods weakly and tries not to stare too much at his teeth as Zach takes another huge bite into the bread. He misses the biting. He misses the _sex_. And right now it feels further out of his reach than ever, thanks to Carl Jung and his disciples. _Where love rules, there is no will to power…_

“Have you even read it in context? Or looked at the original German?”

Zach makes a confused noise around his mouthful of food, drawing his brows down.

“The Jung quote. The one you obsessed over.”

Zach chews, swallows, and takes a drink of water. “Why would I do that?”

Chris looks at him, unbelieving. “Because if you don’t know the context of it, of course it’s not going to make sense.”

Zach smiles. It’s a little supercilious, and Chris finds it irritating. “I know you’re an English major, Pine, but not everything works that way. Whether or not the quote is in context, it has some kind of innate meaning for _me_. It wouldn’t stick with me and bug me so much if it didn’t. The quote itself is what matters to me.”

It’s so quasi-mystical that Chris almost suggests Zach call Oprah or something, but he bites back the words. Probably not helpful right now, and besides: he’ll show Zach the superpower of the English major. After they finish eating, he settles down in a lounge chair and steeples his fingers, pretending to be Sherlock Holmes. If he’s not going to get any physical benefit out of this, at least he might exert his mind a little. “Tell me the quote again.”

“‘Where love rules, there is no will to power, and where power predominates, love is lacking. The one is the shadow of the other.’”

Chris thinks about it a bit, closes his eyes. “Zach, what in the hell are shadows, anyway?”

“Well, in Jungian theory –”

“Give me the concise, for-dummies version.”

“Oh.” Zach sounds disappointed. “Well, okay. Basically everyone has a Shadow – it’s the parts of ourselves that we don’t like to be conscious of, the bits that we’ve decided are not good things and so we try to pretend they don’t exist. But they do. And the more we ignore them or deny them, the stronger the Shadow gets.”

“It sounds like some bad horror movie,” Chris snorts.

“Actually, a lot of Jungians point to Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde as an example.”

“Fascinating,” he says dryly. And then, because he can feel Zach winding up again for a big lecture on Jungian theory and how it really _is_ fascinating, Chris cuts him off. “Let me think for a minute.”

What he’s wondering about now isn’t Zach’s quote; it’s whether his own anger management issues could be considered shadow problems. Chris takes a moment to picture what his alter-ego might look like – Shadow Chris. Nah, Dark Chris. Sounds more mysterious and powerful, like Dark Phoenix. Maybe he’d be green-eyed instead, and still have all that acne he had as a teenager. That makes him feel bad for Dark Chris though, so he removes the acne. Dark Chris is probably a whole lot more suave than Normal Chris, anyway. He wonders how Dark Zach would manifest, but he just can’t picture it. Zach is dark enough on his own. Chris can’t imagine what kind of things make up his Shadow.

“I think my Shadow is really mad a lot of the time,” he says aloud, opening his eyes, and Zach grins.

“Mine’s terrified.”

“Really?” Chris sits up.

“Of course. All those fears I have – that’s a large part of it. The fear comes from the Shadow.”

“So your Shadow is just a big scaredy-cat?”

“Um. I guess that’s one way of putting it. Shadows are big on projection, too, so – that night, after the play, when I was saying all that stuff to you, it was mostly just my own fears about myself.”

Chris glances at Zach, who seems embarrassed. “Interesting. So let me get this straight – you thought you were just made up of bits?”

Zach spreads his hands. “Of course. That’s why I thought you were making me complete. Well, that and some other things.”

“What other things?” Chris asks immediately.

“Oh…” Zach shrugs and looks vague.

“Honesty Policy.” He gives a smug grin at Zach’s raised eyebrows.

“You shouldn’t smirk like that. It’s bad manners.” But he smiles back. “Fine. In therapy I talked a lot about balance, and why I felt like you balanced me out, made me feel like a whole person. Some of it was because of work, actually, _Trek_ – being two halves of a famous duo. But then there’s the sex stuff.”

Chris nods. “A sadist needs a masochist, and vice-versa. But why does the quote bother you so much?”

“I feel like if I love you, I should want to hurt you less, not more. Because if power is the Shadow of love –”

“But it doesn’t say that, not exactly. I mean, it might in the original German, but Mr. I Don’t Need Context assures me that he doesn’t _need_ to read the original German.”

Zach ignores the bait and says instead, “What do you mean, it doesn’t say that?”

“It says one is the Shadow of the other, it doesn’t specify which one is which. In fact, they could _both_ be Shadows, of each other.”

“Love would not be a Shadow,” Zach points out, using the sensible, corrective tone that drives Chris crazy sometimes.

“Love is not always a good thing,” he insists. “Love can be twisted. Love can be a mask for other things.”

Zach stares at him, and Chris can almost see him processing it, his brain ticking over. “Alright. I concede that love is not always a positive thing, but I still don’t think that a consuming need for power can be good. Neutral, maybe, but that’s as far as I’d go.”

“Sure it can be good.” Chris is warming to his theory. It’s like being back in tutorials at Berkeley, arguing his point of view. “Not being consumed by it, no, but if you didn’t take power from me during sex – and we’ll assume for the sake of argument that it’s not just _pretend_ –” He can’t help but glare, but Zach just turns up one corner of his mouth and nods. “If you didn’t do that, if we didn’t have a power exchange, it wouldn’t be as amazing as it is. And—” he’s hit with inspiration, “you need power over _yourself_ , too, self-control. During sex, of course, but more generally too, it’s important to have control over ourselves. You can’t have balance without control. Without _power_.”

“That’s…not completely bullshit, but it still doesn’t explain everything. If love and power are _both_ Shadows, that means—” Chris watches his face closely and sees it, a flash of fear. “Look, maybe I should write this down and discuss it with Paul.”

“No,” Chris insists. “No, _I_ want to help. Wait—” He goes to his bag to grab the journal and a pen, and then shoves Zach’s feet off the end of the sofa to sit down next to him. “But you were right about one thing; we should write it down.”

Zach is staring at the journal. “You still have that?”

“Of course. And I’ve been writing in it.”

“Why?”

“For you.”

“But…why?”

“Because you like it, moron. Now tell me the quote again.”

Zach repeats it and Chris writes it across the top of the next clear page.

 **** _Where love rules, there is no will to power, and where power predominates, love is lacking. The one is the shadow of the other.  
_ __  
1) Love and Power can be Shadows of each other.  
  
He looks up. “See, this just makes my point _for_ me. Love and power can both be all-consuming, but if you hold them in balance…” He trails off. Thinking about this stuff is _hard_ , and he’s starting to feel like he hasn’t done it in a while; his brain is sort of seizing up. But Zach is waiting patiently, even hopefully. Chris looks at his hands, twisting up in each other. It’s the only thing giving away Zach’s nerves. Zach is wearing the rubber band again. “Maybe it’s not a balance thing so much as – give me that.”

Zach pulls his hand away protectively. “What?”

“The rubber band.” Zach, of course, is looking at him like he’s crazy, but he pulls it off and hands it over. “Maybe it’s more like a rubber band than balancing scales.” Chris pulls the elastic taut, bouncing it a few times. “Like this.”

Zach is very excited. Chris can tell by his bright eyes and the way his whole body seems to come alive. “So you’re saying I need to keep them balanced and – and _pulling_ against each other, stretching each other.” He grabs the pen away from Chris and scribbles down point two in the journal.

 _2) Love and Power can be held in balance through a tension of opposites, like a rubber band._  
  
“I don’t know if we’d be published in any reputable academic journal,” Chris says. “But I think we’re doing pretty damn well.” He feels proud of himself, and of Zach. “Maybe we should put in some footnotes,” he jokes, bumping into Zach’s shoulder.

Zach gives a small smile. “It’s still not an answer, though,” he says quietly. “If I love you so much, why do I want to hurt you?”

“Because that’s how you show love.” Chris shrugs. It’s not rocket science. But Zach looks grim.

“I have never in my life understood this drive I have to make people hurt, make them afraid. And this fucking _limitless_ desire to make you hurt, I have no idea what that’s all about. I _need_ limits, Chris. I don’t function well without them.”

“You have limits. You said you’d never choke me.”

But Zach shakes his head. “During the 24/7 trial, you know I felt like I had maybe a boundless desire to hurt you and control you, and I’ve never felt that about anyone else before. And I said at the time that I would never choke you but even that – I kind of passed that, too, with the asphyxiation stuff.”

 _That was my fault_. Chris looks down at his hands, winding the rubber band around his fingers until the tips go white. He still feels a crippling guilt about That Night, although he hasn’t mentioned it to Zach, because Zach has forgiven him. And every time he tries to articulate how he feels to Suzanne, his throat closes up and he has to change the topic.

“If there’s anything that trial showed me, it’s that the more control I have over you, the more I want. The more power I had, the more I craved, and it was just…oh, Christopher. It was like I couldn’t breathe.” Chris sees the fear cross his face again and points at him.

“I think Dark Zach might be trying to come out and play.”

“Dark Zach?”

“Yeah, like – your Shadow.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he says, but he looks amused. “I mean, the name. But apart from that, I think you’re right, actually. I get to the point where I think things might start making sense and I get _petrified_ , and I have to run away and comfort myself with pictures of your ass. And speaking of which, if you wanted to send me a few more of your cock, they would be gratefully received.”

Chris gives him a thoughtful look. “And now you’re trying to deflect with sex. Hi, Dark Zach!”

Zach opens his mouth to protest but then thinks it over. “Well, fuck.”

“See, _I_ should be your analyst. You can pay _me_ three hundred an hour to listen to your problems and point out when you’re being shadowy.”

Zach raises an arch eyebrow. “You think Paul costs three hundred an hour?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know. Is he half that? More? Oh, my God, he’s more isn’t he! Jesus Christ, Zach!”

“The cost, thankfully, is not a concern. Paul is the best. And he’s – he’s like me. It helps. He understands, because he feels the same things himself.”

 _I can understand too_ , Chris wants to say, but then it strikes him: he really can’t, not some things. He will never be like Zach, and in the same way that Chris needed people to talk to – people like him – Zach needs his own confidantes and sounding boards. “Well, that’s okay,” he finds himself saying. “Okay.”

“But Chris – this has been great. Really.”

“We’re not done,” Chris says. “You still don’t get it.”

“I get it more than I did.”

“No, you still don’t get what _I’m_ saying to you.” He holds up the rubber band again, stretching it, and looks at Zach. “What do you see?”

“Literally?”

“Sure, let’s start with that.”

“Stretched rubber.”

“In which direction?” Zach just looks at him. “ _Both_ directions, right?”

“Okay.”

“Do you see what I’m saying?”

“Yes,” Zach says firmly, and Chris smiles. “Okay, no, I don’t, but I wanted to see you smile like that, it’s so cute.”

“I hope you don’t flirt with Paul like this,” Chris scowls, and Zach laughs.

“I found out he's straight, by the way. So go on, tell me your rubber band theory.”

 _Okay. We officially love Paul again_. “Say this end is the power end.” Chris indicates his left hand, pulling on one end of the band. “That makes this other end love. But as far as power can stretch, so can love – they stretch the same distance. However much you want to hurt me, and even if it _is_ limitless, which I don’t think it is, but anyway –”

“However much I want to hurt you, I love you the same amount.” Zach’s eyes are starting to look a little wet and a little pink. “So even if I did have no limits, it means…”

“There’s no limit on your capacity to love.”

“And that’s – is that a good thing? You said before, love can get twisted.”

Chris takes up Zach’s hand and winds the rubber band back around his fingers, looks into his face, which is still troubled. “I think it’s a fantastic thing. I know what you’re like when you’re in love. You give it everything in you, and not everyone is like that. I think it’s a good way to be, although it makes you pretty vulnerable. But as long as you can hold that stretchy balance, I think you’ll be okay.” Zach tries to turn away, but Chris grabs him. “Oh, no. I’ve cried enough times in front of you.”

Zach gives a laugh, but it’s half-sob. “You don’t cry,” he sniffles, and they both smile at that. But Zach really is crying, tears spilling over even as he tries to wipe them away.

“Are you okay?” Chris asks after a second.

“Yes.”

“Why are you crying?”

“Because – because maybe I’m not a monster after all.” He sounds so young and so scared. Chris kisses him impulsively, briefly on the lips and then over his cheeks to taste his tears, and Zach lets him, his hands snaking around Chris’s waist and pulling him closer. At some stage, Zach pulls away to scribble down point three – “I don’t want to forget,” he says.

 _3) My capacity for love is just as great as my will to power._  
  
Joe comes home to find them wrapped up in each other, making out like a couple of teenagers on the couch, and they pull apart guiltily.

“Jeez, Zach. You _have_ a room here, you know.” But he’s just teasing. “Long time, no see, Chris. How are you?”

“I’ve been, yeah, fine, uh. You?” Chris is hyperaware of his flushed lips and cheeks, scratched up from rubbing across Zach’s face and neck. And his dick, pushing up into the denim of his jeans. He resists the urge to pull a cushion over his lap, and Joe tactfully keeps his eyes trained on Chris’s face.

They go to the guest room and lie on the bed, talking more. Joe turns on the television in the lounge, and puts the sound up high, but they don’t do anything more than kiss occasionally. The conversation is light. Zach seems tired, and Chris doesn’t want to push, until he feels he has to.

“Where are we going from here?” he asks when the light begins to die. “Do I still have to have some kind of limit before we can fuck again?”

Zach turns on his side to face him. “Haven’t we talked enough for today? Can’t we just kiss some more?”

“Zach.”

“Yeah, I just thought I’d try it.” He’s teasing, but Chris finds himself getting angry again.

“I’m serious, man. It’s not fair of you to expect me to have limits if you don’t. Or to expect me to be the only one to enforce them in the relationship.”

“I know. You’re right.”

“Because I’m not your moral compass, okay? Or I shouldn’t be.”

Zach gives a slight frown. “Yeah, okay. I get it.”

“Do you? I mean, you went and got that tattoo –”

“This is about my tattoo?”

It’s absolutely not about the tattoo, but Chris can feel the red tidal wave surging up in him, his increasing pulse beating _it’s not fair, it’s not fair_ at his temple. “Maybe. Maybe it is. Because God forbid _I_ get one without consulting you beforehand.”

He swings off the bed, and Zach follows, looking startled. “I’m going to go ahead and assume this is not about you wanting to get ink,” he says.

“Sure, go ahead, you always do what you want,” Chris mutters, trying to find his shoes. The blood is pounding in his ears, and he wants to get out of here as quickly as he can.

“ _Excuse_ me?”

That’s when Chris catches sight of himself in the mirror on the back of the door. He looks furious, his face screwed up, his hands clenching and unclenching. Dark Chris is not as suave and mysterious as he imagined previously. In fact, Dark Chris looks bitter and petty and ugly. The anger dies as suddenly as it’s come and he wheels around, frightened. He can’t fuck things up _again_.

“I’m sorry. Jesus, I’m sorry – I just got mad for a second. I’m sor—”

“Okay.” Zach reaches out for him. “Alright. Let’s…let’s just sit down and not talk for a minute.”

Chris slumps back on to the bed and Zach sits next to him. After a few moments, Zach slips his hand into Chris’s and squeezes. “You ready?” Chris nods. “I don’t know what you want from me, Pine. I need some guidelines to work with, or something. Standard operating procedures.”

Chris takes a deep breath. “Here’s the thing. I don’t know if I want to let go of my angry side. I feel like it’s important, it’s an important part of who I am, just like the pain stuff, so I don’t really want to get rid of it. And I know that being angry is a bad thing, but—” He breaks off, trying to think it through. “I know you think I have an issue.”

“But you don’t?”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“I feel like sometimes you want me to be passive. To give way. Sometimes it seems like you think I should be passive all the time, because I’m…” He swallows. It’s difficult to say, but he tries to forget about all the connotations and just see the word as neutral. “Because I’m a masochist. But I’m more than that, Zach. I’m more than that.”

Zach thinks it over, and then sighs. “I’m not going to lie to you Christopher, I _do_ like watching you give way. I get a charge out of it, but I don’t want you to be that way in _everything_ you do. I don’t want a blow-up doll, although you’d make a very pretty one.” Chris gives a half-smile. “So I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel like I want a stereotype instead of – instead of _you_. I just worry about you; you get so angry sometimes. I’m scared you’re going to do something you'll regret.”

 _I already have_ , Chris thinks, agony striking his heart again as he thinks about That Night. But he pushes it away. “I’m still working on the balance, I guess,” he says.

“I think you’re right, though. We both need to work on limitations. Work out some boundaries. Even if we don’t _feel_ them, we still need them. Maybe we can work something out.”

“Something arbitrary? Like, no caning after Labor Day?”

Zach laughs, even though it’s a weak joke. “Whatever works.”

Chris leaves soon after, once the night has come in, and later he barely remembers what he and Zach said to each other in the doorway, but it was full of promises and declarations and love.

  
***

  
Zach leaves again, but he’ll be back for _Trek_ soon, so soon, and Chris starts to get desperate. He still can’t figure out his limits, even just a made-up one to give the relationship some guidelines, and if he doesn’t, Zach might never fuck him again. Logically, he knows that’s unlikely. But he’s not thinking all that logically these days.

As he says to Suzanne during a session, he might have limits and boundaries with other people – in fact, he listed them off without a second thought to Byron and Jake – but he still doesn’t feel like there’s anything Zach would want to do that Chris wouldn’t let him at least try. “Even the gross stuff,” he adds, scrunching up his nose. “Although he’s never been interested in, you know, watersports or…” He pulls his socked feet up underneath him on the sofa, nervous, but Suzanne is as unflappable as ever.

“Perhaps you’re thinking about it the wrong way. You’re thinking of individual acts, but maybe you should think bigger-picture. What is it that you get out of these acts? What’s the unifying theme between them?”

Chris thinks hard, but he still doesn’t understand. “Nothing, really, and the problem is, it depends on context too, because although I stopped him with the asphyxiation, I…” He takes a deep breath. “I might still want to do it in other circumstances.”

Suzanne puts down her pad and pencil and smiles at him. “What is masochism, Chris? What do you think it is?”

He shrugs helplessly. “Pain? Feeling? Suffering?”

“By its very definition, masochism is the pursuit of _pleasure_ , isn’t it? It feels good to you, so you do it.”

And with that, everything slots neatly into place for Chris, like Tetris blocks turning and aligning perfectly.

“Holy hell,” he says. “I get it.” Suzanne lifts her eyebrows expectantly. “I know where my limit is.”

  
***

  
It’s weird being back at Zach’s house, with Noah and Harold resettling themselves, and boxes still strewn around the lounge room, half unpacked. Zach has been back in LA only a day or two, and Chris has come round for an impromptu house re-warming.

Zach looked dusty and tired when he opened the door, but he still hugged as hard as ever, and Chris chanced a kiss before they pulled away. He’s sitting on the sofa, now, watching Zach unwrap photo frames and replace them on the side table. They talk about the new script, about how much Zach thinks he won’t miss New York, how much he’s missed his LA friends.

Eventually, Zach tires of unpacking and gets them both a beer. The conversation dies, and Chris figures it’s time.

“I need to talk to you about some things.”

“Okay.” Zach puts on his polite face and sits up.

“Limit things.”

“Oh.” Now he’s nervous. Chris is nervous, too, though. He fishes in his bag for the journal.

“That again?” Zach raises his eyebrows.

“Yes, that again. You can keep it, this time, when we’re done. You said you needed some guidelines, so – here. I worked on some stuff, with Suzanne. This is a list of – they’re not exactly limits, not all of them, but these are things that I _need_. From a relationship. With you.”

Zach puts down his beer and opens the journal. “You really like your lists, Pine.” He smiles and reads the first item out loud. “‘You have to let me watch you come, not often, but sometimes.’ You worked on _this_ with your therapist?”

Chris colors. “Not the exact wording. Jesus. Can you just–”

Zach grins, and Chris has the sudden urge to stick out his tongue.

“So, okay, next: ‘You need to let me fuck you, not often, but sometimes. And sometimes I might want you to sub for me.’ Hm.”

Chris interrupts. “Like it says, not often, and not necessarily pain stuff. If I ask you to do that, we’ll agree on exactly what we’ll do beforehand and I promise, I swear to God, I won’t push beyond that.” Zach says nothing, just looks at him. “I’m not going to fuck up again, and besides, you already said you could do that for me, a while back. And these things on the list, they’re…they’re non-negotiable.” Chris tries really hard to sound confident instead of apologetic, but he knows he’s babbling.

“Did I say anything? I’m just thinking.”

“You’d better be thinking, ‘That’s absolutely fine, Christopher.’”

Zach rolls his eyes and looks down at the list again, reads the next item silently. He starts laughing. “Seriously? I thought you were starting to come around.”

“Seriously. You know I hate it.”

“But that’s what makes it so fun!”

“No. More. Chai.” Chris is not kidding around. He could happily go the rest of his life without tasting that combination of spices again.

“Noted. ‘We need to discuss new things more before we do them.’ No argument from me there.”

“Yeah, you were right about that. I should have listened to you. Voice of experience and all.”

Zach looks faintly surprised, but keeps reading. “‘You need to be more –’” He pauses, looks up. “You don’t think I’m open with you?”

“Not really, no.”

“I offered to let you read my _journal_ , for Christ’s sake.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. Why are you upset?”

Zach bites his lip. “I feel like I’m a lot more open about things with you than I have been before, with other people. I thought that maybe _that_ , at least, I was getting right.” He looks frustrated, Chris realizes, rather than sad.

“You’re more open than you were,” he agrees. “But you bottle things up, Zach, and you don’t talk to me about some things that you know you should. Like _Inishmore_ – if you’d told me you were feeling overwhelmed with all the questions I was asking, I would’ve backed off.”

“I wanted to help,” Zach says weakly. But then he nods. “You’re right, though. Sometimes I feel like I’ve wrapped myself up in so many layers of protection that I get confused about when it’s okay to just be me.”

“Then strip away some of the layers, Zach.” Chris smiles at him. “I need you to tell me when things are bothering you, like the questioning thing, or when I was going out on fake dates – you can’t just push it down and pretend. It’ll just screw everything up again otherwise.”

Zach looks up at him, and Chris is startled by the intensity of his gaze, the twist of fear in his mouth. “I want to. Really. But I get worried. I think that if I’m not _agreeable_ , you’ll get tired of me and…”

Chris gives a small, internal sigh. “Hey, Dark Zach, look at the next item on the list.”

“‘You need to stop thinking I’m going to dump you, and you need to stop second-guessing me.’ Oh. Wait – what do you mean, second-guessing?”

“I’m tired of you acting like this is just a phase I’m going through.” It’s kind of harsh to say it so bluntly like that, but it’s true. “Just because you’re the first guy I’ve been with and just because I never knew I liked – the stuff we do, whatever you want to call it – I know _now_ , and that’s not going to suddenly change back. I mean, come on, Zach. If you don’t believe me when I tell you I love you, it makes me feel like you think I’m a liar.”

Zach is aghast at that. “I don’t think you’re _lying_ , I just –”

“You just don’t think you’re worthy of being loved.”

Zach flinches, and stares at the list again, unseeing. Chris waits. He has endless amounts of patience for Zach sometimes, but the insecurity has to stop.

“You might be right,” Zach says at last. “And I’ll work on that. I do know you love me, but sometimes there’s this voice in my head – I guess you’re right, it’s Dark Zach. Sometimes I still think I’m _wrong_ inside. Warped. I have it more under control now, the Shadow stuff, but still…”

“You used to have a lot more self-acceptance, ages ago, before we got together.”

Zach snorts, pain in his eyes. “Or acted like it, anyway. I’ll try to do better with the insecurity thing. It must be getting old.”

 _Damn straight_ , Chris thinks, but he just nods. “It’ll all be okay in the end. You’ll manage to strip away all those layers of yourself and really transform.” Zach is determined, Chris can see; his jaw tightens, and his hand unconsciously clutches at the journal.

“Thanks,” he says, his voice husky. He looks back at the list. “That’s all?”

“All for now.”

Zach opens his mouth and closes it again, and Chris can tell he’s trying to word something correctly. “There’s not really anything here about the sex stuff. Limits. Boundaries.”

Chris settles back in his chair. “My limit is simple, and I bet it’s the same as yours.”

“Oh, really?”

Chris nods. “Everything we do has to be because we love each other. Never for payback. Never to get even. And it has to be _fun_ , even when it’s intense. It has to be pleasurable and enjoyable for both of us. And if you aren’t enjoying it, or if I’m not, we stop.”

There’s silence between them and Zach is frozen for a moment before putting the book down and dropping his head into his hands, covering his eyes. Chris is worried for a moment, thinking he’s crying again, but then Zach laughs.

“I am _such_ a fucking idiot,” he says.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re right. I forgot the fundamentals of it.” He smiles and looks up. “There’s a reason we call it _play_ , right? I forgot about that.”

“I’ll make sure you remember in future.”

“Please do.  Didn’t you…didn’t you want to keep any of the old rules?”

Chris hesitates. “I liked some of them, yeah. I just didn’t know if you’d think…”

“Paul liked some of them, too. He though showing appropriate self-interest was good, because it forces us both to be more mindful of our actions.”

“That was never an official rule.”

“You are _so_ pedantic. Okay, he also thought the Honesty Policy was a great idea in theory, although he said we should probably extend it from just asking questions. More like it was when we first started it.”

“How do you mean?”

“Like…” Zach waves his hands around. “We should be honest in the beginning. Not keep stuff bottled up. He said that instead of just using it as a means to _get_ to the truth, we could use it as a means to _give_ the truth. So, for example, Honesty Policy: I really want to blow you right now, but I understand that we’re supposed to be trying to talk about things.”

Chris feels his heart contract and his cock jump. “Honesty Policy: Seriously? Because I’m not opposed to taking a break from talking.”

“Honesty Policy: Seriously. But what if I’m doing this as a diversionary tactic?”

“Honesty Policy: that’s okay. I’ll keep us on track afterwards – _fuck_. Zach, wait, you need to actually unbutton my jeans before you try to pull them – _ow_!”

“Sorry.”

“You don’t _sound_ sorry.”

“Well, lift your damn hips and _help_ me – okay.”

“Could you give me a second, just – alright, I get it, you’re impatient, fine, go ahead.” He laughs, delighted, as Zach swallows him down, still half-soft, and pulls at his thighs to drag him further down the sofa. “Yeah, so I don’t think I have any staying power right now.”

“S'fine.” Zach takes less a second to pull off his cock and spit out the word, and then after that it’s all, as far as Chris is concerned, wet, tongue, sucking – he’s got his fingers wrapped in Zach’s hair and he comes, too quickly, but it doesn’t matter because, “Better?” Zach asks. “Good. My turn.”

Chris nearly breaks something in his hasty struggle to get to Zach’s dick, pulling at his clothes like they’re on fire. “Did you _have_ to wear jeans this tight?”

“You weren’t complaining before when you were checking out my ass.”

“Smug bastard.” Chris finally gets them down. The sight of Zach’s cock, hard and quivering as he runs a finger up it, sends a rush of relief right through him. “Some days I thought I’d never get to see this again,” he says, feeling ridiculous. But Zach kisses him, and Chris knows he’s wondered the same thing himself. He rubs his whole hand tenderly over Zach’s cock, fingertips brushing gently against his balls, and sucks Zach’s tongue firmly.

“If you keep doing that, I’ll–” Zach gasps, pulling his head back, and Chris kisses his throat instead.

“Hold me down.” He has no real idea how Zach will manage it when Chris is on top of him, but Zach obligingly shoves him down to crotch level and wraps his fingers lightly around Chris’s wrists. He presses them against his chest, secure, and Chris can feel his heartbeat, quick and strong.

With his other hand, he firmly grabs a handful of Chris’s hair. “No more teasing. Make me come in your mouth.”

Definitely no more teasing. Chris wants to make it good, but it’s been a long time, and he hasn’t had a popsicle for a while, either, but Zach doesn’t seem to mind. He’s more vocal than usual, and it’s gratifying to hear his praise. It takes more time than it might if Chris could use his hands, but that just makes it better. He can feel Zach’s hand contracting on his wrists every time he does something particularly good with his tongue or teeth or lips. He feels almost light-headed, and he recognizes it as the initiation of subspace, but pulls back. Zach is shooting, bucking up into his mouth, before he realizes why – he doesn’t feel like he’s _earned_ subspace yet.

Afterwards, they lie pressed together, lazy and satisfied and a little bit giggly.

“ _Christ_ , I’ve missed you,” Chris says at last. “Missed that.”

“We can go again. Whenever you’re ready.”

“You’re damn right we’re going again.” Chris wants to fuck over and over and over again, the image stretching out to infinity like a hall of mirrors. “And again and again,” he adds aloud. “Until…”

“Until we pass out.”

“Yes. Until then.” _Because maybe then it will be enough to erase the memories of That Night._

“Are you cold? You’re shivering.” Zach hugs him closer, rubbing at his arms.

“No. Yes. Yeah, I’m chilly. Let’s go to bed?”

They have to step carefully over the boxes and crumpled newspaper and the odd fork that Zach hasn’t taken to the kitchen yet, but Chris loves to see it, the debris proving that Zach is really here again, back in LA and staying. The bedroom is exactly as he remembers, and he sighs in pleasure as they slide between the sheets.

“Fuck me until I can’t remember who I am,” he says to Zach, who laughs a little.

“What’s going on in that brain? Something’s on your mind. I can feel it.”

“We can talk about it later. Right now I just need you to fuck me.”

“ _Need_ me to, huh? I guess there’s no arguing with that.”

But later doesn’t come on that particular day, and Zach seems to forget about it, doesn’t mention it the next day, which suits Chris. He’s not ready to talk about it yet, the overwhelming guilt and remorse and regret.

One day. He knows they’ll have to talk about it one day. But not yet.


End file.
